You may speak before him."

Her women vanished, hurrying into another room, the last one drawing a
cord that closed a jingling curtain.

"Do you not trust me?" asked Marcia. "And is it seemly, Commodus, that
I should speak to you before a gladiator?"

"Speak or be silent!" he grumbled, giving her a black look, but she did
not seem to notice it. Her genius--the secret of her power--was to seem
forever imperturbable and loving.

"Let Narcissus bear witness then; since Caesar bids me, I obey! Again
and again I have warned you, Caesar. If I were less your slave and more
your sycophant I would have tired of warning you. But none shall say of
Marcia that her Caesar met Nero's fate, whose women ran away and left
him. Not while Marcia lives shall Commodus declare he has no friends."

"Who now?" he demanded angrily. "Get me my tablet! Come now, name me
your conspirators and they shall die before the sun sets!"

When he scowled his beauty vanished, his eyes seeming to grow closer
like an ape's. The mania for murder that obsessed him tautened his
sinews. Cheeks, neck, forearms swelled with knotted strength.
Ungovernable passion shook him.

"Name them!" he repeated, beckoning unconsciously for the tablet that
none dared thrust into his hand.

"Shall I name all Rome?" asked Marcia, stepping closer, pressing herself